Category: On Invitation

The unacclaimed corpse found on the doorsteps of gate number 13-West of the National Library in Rio is learnt to be of an old man speculated to be in his ninetees.

The first witnesses said that the old man was found lifeless with his face burried in a mid 19th century classic fiction Lolita.

A bag containing the handcrafted diary that constituted memoirs from the life of the old man was also found in his mortal possession beside a bottle of old Russian vodka and 0.5L inkpot and a rusty old fountain pen. The alleged memoir is supposedly the only source of information about the old man although the handwriting seems rather illegible to be read. Experts claimed that he was either too poor with it or too stoned to realise that he was writing.

His possessions were sent to professional analysers to detect the DNA or any other source of identity about the who’s who of the old man.

It seemed that the last book that the old man was allegedly reading had just enough amount of pages to exhaust the remaining breathes sustaining in his lungs. Meanwhile the memoir speaks of the life left behind by the old man that included his mortally struggling state until the age of 24 post which he decided to ascend towards the woods with his literary collection.

It was also stated from the verified sources that the old man had no social contact with his friends and family post a certain age which after he only roamed around unknown places to fathom the anonymity behind the aim of our mortal existence.

Also the old man has in his memoirs a mention of as countable as 4 friends which he named as FATAL 4 about whom he wrote just as voraciously as he wrote about an unknown girl that he supposedly wrote hundreds of unposted letters too which were found attached folded amid the pages of his diary.

The last mention of his meeting someone in person was at the botanical garden metro station in new Delhi India which is three oceans and two continents away from where breathed his last.

“Everything kills everything else in some ways” happens to be the only text scribbled in the inscription form on his left arm.

It is easy to claim that the old man will soon be forgotten as he should…for not giving away anything about who he was and what became of him post the 24th season of his life. The possession found from his old school bagpack was a literary collections of Vladimir nobokov, Ernest Hemingway, Rumi and Paulo Coelho besides his self scribbled largely illegible thoughts in the paperback form along with a heap of unposted letters tugged along.

His mortal remains were buried in the Central Cemetery of Rio with his possessions beside the grave number 1313 as mentioned in the concluding pages of his memoir. The final inscriptions on his grave owing to his subtle identity were as following